


A Small Indulgence

by edenbound



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: Watching Crowley sleep might be Aziraphale's newest favourite indulgence.





	A Small Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is asexual in this fic, but there are references to his choice to have sex with Aziraphale because it feels good and Aziraphale likes it so much. There is no explicit sex on the page, though!
> 
> (And also, as ever, there is no actual angst about the mere fact of Crowley being asexual.)

Crowley is asleep, his body heavy with relaxation. Aziraphale huffs out a pleased sigh and nestles closer, nudging his nose in behind Crowley's ear and breathing in the warm scent of his skin. He's rarely seen Crowley so relaxed before, and it's an arresting sight every time: the lack of tension, the lack of _readiness_, as though Crowley is always holding himself braced for a blow and has now, in sleep, let it go. Aziraphale wonders if Crowley is always so relaxed, or whether this is due to his own presence. It's a self-indulgent hope, but Aziraphale is more or less at peace with his own self-indulgent nature.

And bless _Crowley_'s indulgent nature, too, he thinks. He'd never imagined actually being here, so entwined with Crowley. He's always been less interested in the physical side of indulgence for _himself_ than Aziraphale is: sleep is one of his only sensual vices -- though it's one he does well, sleeping between clean cool sheets with the highest possible thread count. That aside, he's never otherwise been interested in pleasures of the flesh, and Aziraphale knows how lucky he is to be here, bare skin pressed to bare skin.

Crowley stirs a little, and Aziraphale almost holds his breath, willing Crowley to stay so relaxed, so easy in his arms. He's out of luck. "'ziraphale?" 

"Here," Aziraphale says, pressing his lips to a spot below Crowley's ear that always seems to startle a laugh from him. "You only slept a few hours."

"Mmm. You didn't wear me out enough, clearly."

Aziraphale can't help the treacherous giddy thump of his heart at the flirtation in Crowley's voice. They don't often make love, given his lack of drive for it, and truly Aziraphale is content with that -- but the idea of doing it again already is delicious. He kisses the back of Crowley's neck, mouths hotly at the nape. "Are you sure?"

"It's two years," Crowley says, and Aziraphale frowns, not following.

"Two years?"

"Since Armageddon didn't happen." Crowley rolls over, staying close, and puts a hand on Aziraphale's waist. "So I thought we'd celebrate."

"I'd be as happy with the chef's menu at that delightful restaurant we found last month," Aziraphale says, though his eyes are on Crowley's mouth -- tempted, of course, always tempted by him.

"We can do both -- we can do anything we like, angel," Crowley says, a laugh in it, and kisses him.


End file.
